What Doesn't Kill You
by balletismyobsession
Summary: If Blaine had been the one to speak up instead of Mr. Schuester in 'On My Way.' M for semi-graphic description of suicide attempt


**Inspired by a gif set I saw on Tumblr where it was Blaine who spoke up instead of Mr. Schuester. And if anyone has a link to that gif I'm talking about, can you send me the link? I would love you forever. **

***warning* for semi-graphic description of suicide attempt**

* * *

><p><em>"Mr. Shue, look, I know we're a little dramatic sometimes, but I don't think anyone would ever consider taking their own life."<em>

It was quiet in the room, the cold air of the theater becoming more noticeable as everyone sat in silence and turned the weight of Mercedes's words over and over in their heads.

Kurt chewed on the skin of his thumb, hearing the silence pound in his ears. Everyone's eyes were darting around. Every single one of them had had some kind of experience in their life that would be upsetting, something that would make them so angry or sad, but as the eyes wandered around, everyone was thinking the same thing. _Was your experience enough to make you want to take your own life?_

Blaine was breathing faster, feeling his heart race in his body, his blood heating up and spreading in his veins. These were his friends. He could trust them, right? But he'd thought that the Warblers were his friends too. And they had turned their backs on him, hurt him. He'd forgiven them, but it he was never going to forget how he'd felt when he'd been slushied. That wouldn't go away for a long time. And he was wary to trust now. He blinked hard. The silence around them stretched longer. He could see the other students getting restless, fidgeting, anxious for another topic.

It was now or never, the last breath before the jump. He just had to say it, and he could freefall and let his body take over. Say the words he'd never told any of his friends, at McKinley or Dalton or anywhere. The words he'd never even told Kurt.

"Okay guys, well thank you for being honest about—"

"I did."

The words were so quiet, he wondered how they could all hear him. But it must not have been difficult in the way the stage made their words echo and how much they'd been straining to hear a single sound in the silence. They would never admit it, but they'd all been waiting for someone to say it. For someone to relate.

It was quiet for a very long time, until Mr. Schuester's voice became parental and calm as he let out a soft breath and turned towards Blaine. "You don't have to tell us anything, but if you want to, we're all here for you. And if this is too difficult, but you still want to talk, you can talk to me or Ms. Pillsbury one-on-one."

Blaine sat very still, almost unbelieving that he'd let the words pass his lips. He said he'd never speak about it again.

He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, felt the gaze of everyone in the room on him. He knew once he started, it was going to be hard to stop. Worst of all, he could feel Kurt's eyes on him. He didn't want to know what he must be thinking, how he must be feeling. He couldn't bring himself to shift his gaze to the side to look at him.

The silence stretched on again, but now everyone was waiting for Blaine to speak, for the words to come tumbling out, like he knew they would. He chewed his bottom lip, feeling his heart rate spike again. His hands twitched and shifted in his lap.

"Sophomore year," he whispered and with those words, the tense atmosphere around him seemed to relax. He closed his eyes and just let the words flow. "Before I transferred to Dalton. First dance of the year, Sadie Hawkins. I took my friend. We're both gay and we wanted to go so we figured, why not go together?" He let out a shaky laugh. "These three guys beat the crap out of us when we were waiting to be picked up. We missed school for a week. We were fine after a couple of days, but even knowing that those guys had been expelled, the fear was enough to have to wait longer. I was terrified to go back, but I had to. And it was fine. People were actually sympathetic and asked me if I was okay and I thought things were going to be better after that. But I was wrong."

He swallowed and opened his eyes, feeling dizzy with the rush of words. He kept his gaze locked on the smooth floor on which he sat, letting his fingers twist around each other. It was a nervous habit he never even thought about anymore. No one was speaking. Every eye was on him, but he didn't look up to see the pained glances or the teary shine or the anger or hurt in any of his classmate's eyes. Especially not Kurt's.

"For a couple weeks everything was normal but then I started getting notes in my locker. Then they'd be sitting on my desk. Then in my mailbox. I was sent a package that…" his breath caught for the first time and he felt the tears prick, "… that just had a journal in it. And on every page was a reason why I should just… just not be alive. Why I shouldn't contaminate the air. Why everyone would be better without me clouding up the 'normal' people. I should have… I should have gone to the police or showed someone, but I was terrified and I… I burned everything. I tore out the pages in the journal and burned them with the letters and put the journal cover in the bottom of the trash. I told myself it was just some stupid joke. But every day, I kept thinking about it. And I knew it was someone at the school because the boys at Sadie Hawkins weren't allowed on campus. And the fear ate me alive. I jumped at every sound, I didn't make eye contact with anyone, I didn't talk at all. And one day, it was too much." He took a deep breath, his inhale now the only sound. Silent tears were streaking down some faces, while others just stared at him, unable to believe that it was true.

He swallowed hard against his constricting throat and clenched his shaking hands together. "I… no one was home and I was so angry and disgusted with myself that I couldn't _change _why I liked boys. I wanted so badly to be normal, to not feel like an outcast and a freak. I sat in my room alone for hours, crying so hard, it was difficult to breathe. And I just wanted the pain to end. I just… wanted to not have to live anymore. It would be easier if I were dead." Blaine took a shaky breath, instinctively covering his wrist with his hand. "And I took my razor and… and I cut over and over in the same place, watching as I bled. And I cut until I hit a vein and knew it wouldn't stop. Then I laid down on my bed and waited to die."

He was whispering now, the ghost of the pain of what happened next hovering over him. "I don't know how long I was there, but my mind went foggy and I couldn't move at all and my head was ringing and I could feel the sleep pull me under. I closed my eyes for a moment and I must have lost consciousness because the next thing I remember was being shaken, grabbed, pulled. My brother found me. Cooper. I remember my eyes forced open and Cooper was holding me, screaming at me. He was crying. I'd never seen him cry before. And my wrist hurt because he was pressing on it with his hand, trying to stop the bleeding that wasn't going to stop. I blacked out again and when I woke up, I was in the hospital." He exhaled shakily, realizing that he'd unconsciously been pressing down against the scar on his wrist. He loosened his grip.

"I needed blood transfusions and Cooper and my mom were a match. When I woke up, only Cooper was there. My parents were in the waiting room because they couldn't handle it. They couldn't sit there and wait for me to wake up. But Cooper didn't leave for even a moment. I opened my eyes and I was tired and weak and he was there and he just held my hand and for the second time ever, I watched my brother cry. He saved me," he whispered.

Blaine blinked and saw the tear drops land on his hands. "I was discharged after the seventy-two hour suicide watch and went back home. I didn't leave the house for almost a month. And I _couldn't_ go back to my school. So my parents enrolled me at Dalton for the spring term, when I said I could try to go to school. Dalton saved me too. And…" he finally let his eyes wander to the side, but only so he could see the black and white stripes of the pants on the boy next to him. He couldn't look him in the eyes. Not yet. "And so did Kurt," he said so softly.

He paused, dropped his gaze again. It was utterly silent. The first voice to make itself heard since Blaine had first spoken was quiet and struggling to keep in control.

"Can we have a moment alone please?"

"Of course," came the stunned-into-silence voice of their teacher. "Everyone back to the room. We'll finish discussion there and I can write you all passes if you feel you need to stay."

He barely heard the shuffling of students around him, but he did feel the hand on his back. "Please come by Ms. Pillsbury's office today, Blaine. I know that was a difficult thing to share and I'm proud of you for trusting us. Know you're not alone and we want to help you, alright?"

Blaine nodded, felt the hand disappear, heard the footsteps, then nothing. They were alone.

Kurt was silent. The lack of noise now pounded in Blaine's head. He just wanted him to say something, anything. And he risked finally looking up into Kurt's eyes and the pain he saw made his heart stutter in agony.

When Kurt did speak, his lips barely moved and his red, swollen eyes looked at him and begged. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't," he said softly, lifting his head and staring into Kurt's eyes. "You were going through so much and I… I didn't want to add to your pain by saying 'oh hey, by the way, I tried to kill myself this year.'"

Kurt's eyes closed and the tears pooled under his closed eyelids. When he opened his eyes, the tears flowed freely. He reached out and put his hand over Blaine's.

Blaine hesitated when Kurt pulled his hand into his lap and turned it over. His palm was shaking when Kurt lightly traced the silvery scar on his wrist. "You told me this was from when you broke your wrist and you had to have surgery," he said quietly and Blaine could hear the pain in his voice.

"I didn't want to worry you."

"You should have." Kurt said, his eyes flaring. "I… I…" he took a deep breath. "You mean the world to me. I know why you didn't tell me, but… Blaine, I want you to… to know that you can tell me anything. I'll never stop loving you."

It was Blaine's turn to feel the warm tears streak down his cheeks and he felt Kurt's body shift closer and he was wrapped in a one-armed hug, his other hand linked with Kurt's as Kurt pressed their palms between them, held up to Blaine's steadily beating heart. "I'm sorry," Blaine whispered over and over and over as he cried. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Kurt hushed him gently, making soothing sounds and pulling him in tightly as he shook. "You're okay, Blaine," he said through his own tears that dripped down his cheeks and onto his boyfriend's neck. "You're okay, baby. You're okay."

Kurt tilted his head to kiss his neck gently, then his cheek. He tasted the salty tears on his lips when he pulled away as Blaine's breathing became calmer. Their eyes were both red and puffy, their cheeks streaked with dried tears and splotched with red. Kurt stroked Blaine's cheek with one hand, tightening his grip on Blaine's other hand. "I love you," he said, and the sincerity rang with every word.

Blaine's eyes never left his gaze. "I love you too. More than you could ever know," he whispered.

Kurt blinked gently and leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It wasn't like any kiss they'd ever shared before. This kiss spoke for utter safety and without words, said, _I'm here for you, always_. The touch of their lips was like water on in a scorching desert, the relief instantaneous. When all seems hopeless, they have each other and they can find comfort here.

Kurt pulled back and rested their foreheads together, pressing his lips together as they tingled, not wanting to ever forget how Blaine tasted against his mouth. He ran his thumb so gently over the smooth scar on Blaine's wrist, telling him it was okay and how much he loved him and how proud of him he was. Blaine let himself relax, stopped trembling, because with Kurt, he was okay and he knew that he could _be_ okay. His greatest secret was out in the open, but now he felt relief.

He'd heard the phrase so many times before. _What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. _He did not believe that for a second. He'd tried to kill himself and he'd almost succeeded. That experience didn't make him stronger, not for a second. But those who were involved, directly or indirectly, they did. Cooper, his friends at Dalton, his friends at McKinley, Kurt, those were the ones who made him stronger, made him believe that he could do anything or keep going.

Without even realizing it, they made him stronger, every day.


End file.
